As You Wish
by dutchrub
Summary: Oneshot. Whether her dad had planned this mischief or not, Haruhi is forced to recognize some striking parallels a certain host has to "The Princess Bride." MorixHaru


_**Author's Note: **__I don't remember how exactly this idea entered my head, but once my brain had drawn the parallels, there was no stopping my momentum to write it. Geez, I'm just so into _Ouran _these days. Please review if you read and enjoyed this._

_**Disclaimer**__: Characters borrowed from _Ouran High School Host Club_ and parts of the dialogue belong to _The Princess Bride_. I just married the two stories together because I could. ;)_

**As You Wish**

**By: Dutchrub**

"Mori-sempai, I can't seem to find my math book. Will you help me look?"

"Ah."

"Mori-sempai, I hate to keep bothering you, but would you carry these grocery bags for me? They're heavy."

"Ah."

"Mori-sempai, could you hand me that container of instant coffee?"

"Ah."

So it had gone for months. Any time Haruhi needed a job done, Morinozuka Takashi would step up and help her. He never said anything while doing those tasks, just one "Ah" to let her know he was there. They never conversed, and she never pried. They would work silently together in perfect harmony. It was routine, it was comfortable, it was inconsequential. Until this weekend, this very moment.

-----

Curse her father for making her watch this movie. He was an evil, evil man, Haruhi realized. He had to have known the movie would do this to her. After all, he talked to Kyouya every week. That damned Shadow King with too much time on his hands must have noticed something that was clearly none of his business and related it to Ranka. That could be the only explanation for her father's repeated suggestion that she watch _The Princess Bride_. "Ne, Haruhi! Let's watch this movie together! You have to see it with me! I can't watch it alone!"

So her arm successfully twisted, they sat down to the movie, her father occasionally watching her out of the corner of his eye. It seemed like a harmless enough movie to start out with—a sick grandson and his grandfather offering to read him a story to keep him entertained—, and Haruhi's attention was already beginning to drift to dinner and cleaning when a new sort of narrative took over.

"Buttercup was raised on a small farm in the country of Florin. Her favorite pastimes were riding her horse and tormenting the farm boy that worked there. His name was Wesley, but she never called him that. Nothing gave Buttercup more pleasure than ordering Wesley around." Haruhi scowled at the screen. She didn't think this Buttercup character was off to such a good start. And what kind of a name was Buttercup anyway that she could ignore a perfectly good name like Wesley.

"'Farm boy, polish my horse's saddle. I want to see my face shining in it by morning,'" said Buttercup.

"'As you wish.'" Haruhi's scowl softened slightly as something sort of familiar about those words struck her. The narrator continued, "'As you wish' was all he ever said to her." Now this was even more familiar, but why?

"'Farm boy, fill these with water.'" Something in Wesley's eyes made the Buttercup character add gently, "'Please?'

"'As you wish.'

"That day she was amazed to discover that when he was saying 'As you wish,' what he meant was 'I love you.'" This discovery made Haruhi shiver imperceptibly. She wasn't sure why she was being affected by a silly romantic movie as she had always been too practical to care, but then she supposed that was before she began working at the Host Club, where she was forced daily to indulge in the rose-colored, amorous fantasies of idle rich women.

At this point, she would have been happy to just turn off the thing all together, that was until it made an unexplainably awkward situation even worse when the narrator added, "And even more amazing was the day she realized she truly loved him back." Oh no, the young crossdresser thought for no good reason.

The very next scene had Buttercup in a kitchen, eyeing Wesley's every move. She seemed desperate to give him something to do before he left the room. "'Farm boy! Fetch me that pitcher?'"

Wesley moved in extremely close to her and barely lifted a hand to get the easy-to-reach pitcher. One could tell from the soft look on his face, he understood her feelings. "'As you wish,'" he said. To her incredulity, Haruhi realized she'd been holding her breath. She let it out as discreetly as possible, but her father still managed to notice with a flick of his eyes.

With the release of that breath went her further thinking on the matter. She resolved to tune out the rest of the movie and plan her evening chores. Haruhi wouldn't have thought another minute about it if it hadn't have been for Ranka's careless aside: "Doesn't Wesley remind you a little of Mori-kun? Silent and dutiful, always doing exactly what you ask of him."

And now she couldn't, thanks to her father, stop her brain from drawing the parallels between the farm boy and Mori-sempai. Just the other day, Haruhi had asked him to get something off the top shelf in the Third Music Room which she could have easily managed had she been a little less lazy. But he was right there, all six feet two inches of him, and she had him get it. He obliged with his trademark "Ah."

"Wrong!" she chided herself once the movie was over and she was in the privacy of her bedroom. "Mori-sempai doesn't think of me like that. Dad's gone off the deep end again. I hope he hasn't been getting into the liquor again."

She had convinced herself for the evening that the movie ultimately meant nothing, and she settled into bed with thoughts of giant tuna and her very own laptop whirling through her head. Morning would come, and _The Princess Bride_ would be forgotten.

-----

However, the next day at the Host Club hardly resolved matters. Haruhi had been fine the whole day, immersing herself in her schoolwork or droning out the overzealous Hitachiin twins. But the moment she entered the Third Music Room and saw the stoic third-year, images of Wesley the farm boy quickly superimposed themselves on Mori until Haruhi could barely differentiate between the two.

She spent most of the afternoon observing Mori to see what he would do. She had to know if there was really any foundation for Ranka's rash claims. If his theory held any water, then Mori would approach her, find things to do for her, even simply cast surreptitious glances at her. However, she found he did none of those things; he was perfectly distracted the whole afternoon with hosting duties and attending to his miniature cousin. Haruhi couldn't tell if she was relieved or disappointed; her worries were neither allayed nor explained.

Some of the other hosts were beginning to take notice. Tamaki eased up beside the twins and said, "Why is Haruhi staring at Mori-sempai like that?"

"She not staring at him—" said Kaoru.

"—she's studying him," finished Hikaru.

All three boys leaned forward slightly to get a closer look. "And muttering," they chorused. They couldn't hear her, but they could see her lips moving.

"Stupid father," Haruhi said, her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed, "showing me that stupid movie. I'm just feeding into the Host Club paranoia. I was never this paranoid before I was forced to join them."

Haruhi didn't know why she was so fixated on this issue. It could have been a coincidence—just a silly, unfounded coincidence—that her dad wanted to watch that movie with her. It's not that Ranka had insisted on her watching it anyway, more like hoped and begged she would, so that couldn't mean he had any ulterior motives. But there was still that nagging sound in the back of her mind that said, "There are no coincidences in the Host Club." And that was the truth, as frightening as it was.

Well, there was only one thing to do to be sure that she wasn't unconsciously stringing him along. Haruhi would simply give up asking him for help. She would either do things for herself or, if need truly be, she would ask one of the other hosts. She wasn't like Buttercup, she wasn't in love with her help. So, it stood to reason, it would be easy to give up Mori's assistance.

But only three days had gone by since her resolution, and Haruhi actually felt a significant difference in her routine. It wasn't that it was necessarily hard to stop asking things of Mori—she found that had been relatively easy as she had grown up very independent. More than anything, it was bothersome, and Haruhi realized that meant she was actually bothered that she couldn't spend time with him anymore without thinking about embarrassing things. She had always enjoyed working alongside him, and now that she was forcing herself not to, she noticed her afternoons felt a lot less… comfortable.

Though he did not say anything to her, Haruhi imagined she saw the same ennui in Mori. He moved more robotically through the room and engaged less with the customers than usual. Of course, it could be her imagination, but she also thought he glanced to her more than a few times.

When Friday arrived, Haruhi felt positively uneasy. She concluded she had upset the natural balance of things—not that the balance in the Host Club wasn't terribly fragile to begin with—and to her surprise, she finally comprehended how fully the club had pervaded her life. Haruhi had adjusted to the curious, sometimes painful rhythm of life here, and now that she had given up one of her favorite parts of it, the feeling of unhappiness was unmistakable.

Haruhi wandered sullenly back toward one of the storage areas where the Host Club kept its food and beverage supplies. She didn't really have a purpose back here, but it was some place to get away from the endless tide of doting ladies.

She rested her hands on the counter and sighed. In order to be once again at peace in the club, she had to set things right. Yes, at last she knew that as much as she complained about the Host Club, she needed it, but more importantly she needed the men in it. She cared about the men in it. She loved the men in it. She loved the men in it? It was an amazing idea, but it was true. And she loved…

Mori appeared around the corner. If he was shocked to find Haruhi leaning forlornly there, he hid it well. His cool eyes watched her with a hint of hope, but he did not move or emote otherwise.

Haruhi quickly stood rigid. Her eyes hunted furiously for something—anything—she could ask him to do before he turned and walked away from her. At last, they landed on a nearby platter with a tea setting. "Mori-sempai! Hand me that tea set?"

The solemn man nodded, and as he did, a very gentle, knowing smile lit up his face. Haruhi's restless soul instantly fell sated. "Ah," he said as he placed the delicate creation in her hands. Nothing had ever felt so good, she thought, as his imposing, beautiful figure lingered closely to hers. After a moment of comfortable, familiar silence, she reluctantly severed their warm connection only with the knowledge that there would be more moments like this to come. She would never hesitate to ask for Mori again.

The rest of the day, the two hosts went about their duties with full hearts, peaceful spirits, and the comfort of reciprocated feelings.


End file.
